November 16, 2010 Mhalaunda
I went to visit my counterpart’s home today. Nyumba ya Makwakwa. His family is very sweet and so welcoming, just in tune with Malawian character. I ate with all the men and later in the afternoon Mr. M even cooked something for me, sweet potatoes with onions in a sweet-style sauce. It was pretty good. I was even more impressed that he took the initiative to cook for me, so rare amongst Malawian men. At times I wonder if they even can cook. In the afternoon we sat under the big mango tree and drank nthobwa, Malawian sweet beer brewed from millet. It was so peaceful sitting under that tree, I felt so at ease with my surroundings. Just beautiful. It was a moment to sigh and drink it all in.
November 17, 2010 Mhalaunda
As cheesy as it sounds yesterday was one of my days where I feel like the day was perfect. Rabecca, Mama Chavula’s only daughter and I made chocolate icing together. We then smeared it all over mandasis, make the Malawian donuts even sweeter. Then the neighbor’s kids came over and sat with me while I did my washing. Danny is the cutest 3-year-old I’ve ever seen.
In the afternoon, I went to sit with Mr. Zalimbe as he did some sewing. He is the chair of the People Living with AIDS support group. His co-chair in the organization just passed on from tuberculosis (coupled with his HIV status, made for a mitigated life). Well Mr. Zalimbe has been a bit down due to the death and funeral. He finally got back to some of his work just yesterday. I went to sit with him and keep him company, give him a little solace. He showed me what he was sewing, laying out several of the clothes he’d sewn. He’s working on selling them at the clinics and the market. He’s such a sweet old man. I really enjoy spending with him.
Today I had my first session for the Boys and Girls Club. The day’s topic for discussion was Gender Equality. The icebreaker activity was to play Red Rover. The game was pretty entertaining. It never gets old to watch kids get clotheslined in the name of fun. Oh sweet little Chimwemwe, no matter the culture kids learn pretty quickly to call on the smallest kid to run over. He hit the dirt pretty hard and I laughed so hard I had to crouch to hold in the pee. Pepani.
November 23, 2010 Mhalaunda
Rainy season is upon Malawi. Every afternoon a burst of water. Sometimes loud enough to put cotton in your ears or turn the volume as high as possible on the iPod just to muffle it. Other times it’s just a light patter, a small metal tinkle – it’s rather comforting, a sort of white noise.
And the birds outside, they swoop to and fro across the sky, hundreds of them, in diving glides. No doubt this is a buffet – all the solid dirt mollifies, moistening the earth and breeding a microcosm of insect life. A feast. I even saw my first scorpion. About 3in long and 3in across with large pincers. He was fortunately dead, smashed to a pancake, but still terrifying in his moribund state.
On a side note, I just found out my bestowed village surname, Mtika, means moisture. How relevant right now.
November 27, 2010 Mhalaunda
Thanksgiving in Malawi. The cooking committee roasted a 50kg pig on an open fire and then served it with all the traditional Turkey Day fixins: stuffing, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, mango pie (an excellent twist on a classic), etc. It was a pretty impressive spread. The dinner itself was at the Ambassador’s house. A swanky residence with 5 acres of gardens, a pool, a huge outdoor patio and seating area (fit to seat 40, seriously), tennis courts. It was marvelous.
I spent my week leading up to the event finding and repairing a dress from the bend-over-boutique, e.g. the clothes market. It takes this cutesy name from the the piles of secondhand clothes set on tarps in heaping piles. I had great luck finding a dress. I stumbled on a Sak’s Fifth Avenue dress, a 70s paisly yellow color with the appropriate pattern. It was a long dress with long sleeves; it looked like something straight out of 1976. I decided to adjust it a little. I removed the sleeves and turned the back into a racer back. I call it “Thanksgiving in the Tropics” – I got many compliments on it at Thanksgiving.
December 2, 2010 Dedza
You know you’ve been in Malawi too long when you yell “Iwe!” in your sleep.
Briana related this to me yesterday. She said she woke with a start thinking I was yelling at her. I’m sharing a room with Briana during our in-service training (IST). IST has just started back at the site of our pre-service training in Dedza. The whole health 2010 sector is in, trading information about our first three months at site.
We have sessions on community integration, grant writing, project proposals, action plans, etc. It’s a training on how to get our projects implemented. Plus, we are well fed, well watered (both alcoholic and non), and with a chance to re-Americanize ourselves with a large group of Americans.
December 3, 2010 Dedza
A response to beggars: uyo akuti nipako nipako ni munkhungu, m’sambazgi akumanya yekha.
“A donor/teacher knows when to give, all else is robbing.
A Chitimbuka idiom.
December 19, 2010 Manyamula
Transport in Malawi can be so tedious at times. Coming home Saturday, we left Mzimba so early. I’m on way back after my month long furlough with Thanksgiving, training, and site visits. And now I’m coming home, back to Mhalaunda. I was so thrilled to get an early exit from Mzimba, hopefully get home around 3pm. Much to my dismay and utter frustration, I arrived at 6pm. After a prolonged stop at the crossroads near Emazwini. Where I so desperately wanted ntochi, bananas, that I payed 20 kwacha for 3 (I was pissed). This stop is generally so the matola helpers, the fee taker, the baggage person, etc. are given there beer break. A man with a big steel drum full of home brew, he dips out a cup for each.
Then, we proceeded from Emazwini to Manyamula for what should have been a 5 minute stop for Rabson (the matola driver) to buy meat, but became a two hour affair. Turns out Rabson’s insurance papers aren’t properly in order and one of which is missing. We got wind that the police were coming through so they pulled the car behind the secondary school to wait. So I waited it out in the car reading Gone With the Wind. I mean I understand the necessity of moving the car, but still a huge pain in the ass. Well kuno ku Malawi nyengo yitali. Here in Malawi time is long.
December 20, 2010 Mhalaunda
First day back to the clinics after the training furlough. I felt a little out of my element today. I’m a bit emotional today, well angry-emotional to qualify that. I’ve just been off to a bad start today. I went running this morning with Mr. Jere, which for all intensive purposes should have cheered me up. But no. I don’t know what it is. I went to draw water afterward for my bafa and well beforehand I had stripped down to my skivvies to cool off a bit. I then wrapped my chitenje as tightly as possible atop them and went out with my big blue bucket to draw water. I filled the bucket just fine, the water felt tepid and superb, a good compliment to my sticky, humid mathupi. I hoisted the bucket atop my hair and I started back to the house. Pakatikati, halfway, my chitenje began to droop and snag on my sweaty calves. My chitenje started to fall and all that went through my head is “do you really want the village to see you in pink panties with flowers on them?” The answer was a resounding NO! And then the bucket came crashing down, splitting and expelling water like it was a geyser. Wholly embarrassed, I kicked and cursed all the way back about why I hadn’t just put on a skirt. My bafa just wasn’t as good. Then a problem with cell service. The day was just turning out all wrong.
Anyhow, so my morning put me in a big funk. So at the clinic, I was still reeling from my morning. I just felt one step back from everything, as if I was watching myself participating. I gave out the Vitamin A supplements a little devoid of emotion, putting on a fake smile when I remembered. But it was when I was doing the recording for the Supplementary Feeding Program for the malnourished children that I stepped back into my bodily experience. I noticed the child just across from me, a 4-year-old child that hasn’t quite hit 35lbs. He’s a suffered of cerebral malaria. The kind that can transform a child from a perfectly healthy child into one suffering from severe retardation within a week. The child was sickly, emaciated, a stultified shell of a kid of what was her former normal. Witnessing such a gruesome change is horrible to think about. And, as I hold the childcare passport in my hands I can trace the change, the transformation, on the growth chart. Normal, rapid growth flatlines at 18 months and this child before me is the result of seeig a child that is physically 22 months, but in years is nearly 50 months. I can’t imagine caring for such a kid, how heartbreaking. Now she needs supplementary foods, rationed once a month at these clinics. She’s just wasting away.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Journal Entries - Oct 4 to Nov 15
October 4, 2010 Mzuzu
I just returned from a day at the beach, on the beach of Lake Malawi. It certainly was a good day. My first visit to the lake at Nkhata Bay. The bay is beyond beautiful, it’s at the fringes of tourism, so it’s still unspoiled by many azungus. The beach I visited, Chikale Beach shows only a few signs of tourist interaction: a few bungalows and a bar. The beach itself is enclosed by a gorgeous yet humble cove with small, coarse-grained sand. A few rocky peninsulas jetted out into the cerulean waters, a mango tree sprouted from the jettison.
Nkhata Bay is a mere 45 minutes or about 50 km from Mzuzu, the northern urban hub. I visited the Bay with Dumi and another PCV, Russell who stays in Nkhotakota. We took a boat trip out in the bay, motoring around to get a different perspective of both the lake and the bay. As you depart from the land and gaze back you can see just how the lake was formed. The land angles down often with great slopes, diving into the lake. This is the African Rift Valley after all. So much of the lake’s perimeter is made of slate-like rock, long, wide, and quite thin, like it was broken right off of the earth’s mantle. When you slide into the water in any area apart from the beaches you have to perch and hop between these large rocks and then slide off one into the water. It makes me wonder just how deep the lake is, how deep it must dive between the two spreading plates.
October 5, 2010 Mhalaunda
It’s Monday and I finally returned to site after the long weekend. Transportation back to my site just isn’t possible on Sundays. The matola drivers take the day off and the closest I can get via other transportation would leave me with about 6 km to walk on my own. Unfortunately, I had to take one of these other means of transportation. One thing to be conscious of and flexible with are the many transportation difficulties you’ll occur when traveling in Malawi. Transportation is in no way reliable here. And today, well the day started off well enough. I completed all my errands in Mzuzu, no problem but I left for Mzimba a little late; it was after 12:30pm by the time I got out of the city. I took my first hitch from the National Bank in Mzuzu to the road block several kilometers outside of Mzuzu. Hitching is the preferred from of transportation among Peace Corps Volunteers. It’s generally more comfortable and the fastest mode of transport as they have fewer stops than minibuses. Anyhow, so the first hitch took but a few minutes to find. At the road block, there I sat in hopes that the police guards would ask any passing cars to take my lonely azungu ass. I sat for roughly 40 minutes at the post or so, watching cars pass where they seemed eager enough, casting me semi-anxious glances, and then off they would drive and the guards would just shrug at me. Finally, I took some initiative and wagged my hand, the Malawian equivalent of sticking out your thumb at a car just departing the road black. He pulled right over and I slipped in. We rode for a ways sporadically stopping to pick or drop other passengers. (Picking up hitchhikers is a fairly lucrative way to travel the highways here). We moved along quite well until we got a flat tire. The tire looking quite flaccid, all the air escaped some time ago, we were nearly driving on the rim. We sat at Chikangawa, which is a forest here, for an hour or so, waiting on someone at the post to go find a jack. Eventually someone found one, but not before I received a string of calls on my phone alerting me that the matola I take was leaving Mzimba. And me, well I was still 40 minutes away from Mzimba. Once the tire was replaced and we were on our way again did I start to grow nervous. What was I to do if I missed the matola? There were no other cars to take, or I could be dropped by another car the 6 km away and walk, or I could stay in Mzimba at a lodge that would be sure to overcharge me. My options seemed dim and I bit my lip, chewing anxiously. But, if there’s anything that Malawi, the Peace Corps, or the wonderful Mary Klayder has taught me it’s that it will always be fine. In this I found some comfort.
I arrived in Mzimba to find the matola gone, but with instructions from Mama Chavula to take Lizeni’s matola, one that heads to Embangweni. I found home, no problem. Malawians are quite helpful, you emerge from the bus depot and you’re immediately greeted with, “Hello Madame! Where are you going?” I relate that I’m looking for Lizeni’s matola. The four that greeted me direct me to his vehicle and carry all my bags (this is free of charge, tipping is unheard of here). I hopped into the flatbed mini-semi truck only to wait for two hours for no other reason then to see if they could fill the car. The truck tries to attract more passengers by honking, revving the engine, and circling the depot, it’s like the mating call of an oversized and noxious fumed bird. I grew more irritable with each rev and honk. Once we were on our way, in the early darkness that befalls evening here, around 6pm. Lizeni drove with a superb mastery of the washboarded dirt roads. This was my only source of comfort as he drives with a Carlsberg Special in one hand and an Ascot cigarette in the other. We continued in this manner until we reached Chimutu, there Gabriel met me around 7:30pm. I was so glad to see him, I was under the impression that I would have to walk from there. He was there with another bicycle taxi, to carry both me and my large pack. And that’s how I traveled the final 6km, on the back of a bike taxi, gripping my market purchases and gazing mouth agape at the superb brilliance of the Malawi mdima, the awe-inspiring night sky.
October 7, 2010 Mhalaunda
This week has been tremendous, one which makes me thankful for choosing to do Peace Corps and that I’ve been so fortunate to come to Malawi. I think I’ve finally found that groove I’ve searching for in earnest. I’d say the largest, most crucial element to my happiness has been having tasks, actual work to do. I taught my first two classes of Life Skills this week to both From 1 and Form 3 (the freshmen and junior year equivalents). I teach both forms two periods a week, so 4 classes. The first lesson is on self-awareness and self-esteem. The kids, though a bit shy, seem so eager to learn. Or, perhaps the novelty of being taught by an azungu is still dazzling them. Either way, the students were so respectful, I was so pleased. They’re so well behaved and the general morale of the class is quite high. Any freshmen equivalent at Topeka High would just fail in comparison. The lessons went so well; I walked out with a little jaunt in my step.
I also met with the People Living with HIV/AIDS group. They’re such an organized and lively bunch, not to sound dreadful, but this was pleasantly surprising. They have support group meetings once a week. They run several IGA activities including sewing and knitting clothes for children. I sat in on a lesson for the knitting machine (World Vision an NGO from the States donated the sewing and knitting machines). They also run a garden to supply produce for the additional nutritional needs for their members.
Cooking is going quite well. I experimented with gyoza (potstickers) this week. I made the gyoza from cabbage, onions, tomatoes, garlic and ginger. I boiled them, you know cut back on the fried foods since I get enough of that here with the fried chips. They turned out quite delicious, kunowa chomene. I even made an accompanying dipping sauce, a sort of spicy ginger sauce. And for dessert, no bake cookies. I almost ate the whole batch, which makes me feel a tad guilty. But hey, who’s watching my weight here? Oh just me, because my neighbors keep telling me that I’ll look good fat, and fat is in here for women. The fatter the better. In case you’re wondering I’ve put on 12 pounds. And no, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a good thing that full length mirrors are nowhere to be found here.
October 12, 2010 Mhalaunda
I’m not sure just how descript I’ve been to the utter remoteness of my site. Just three cars (trucks really) pass through here on a daily basis. All three are part of the matola system, the rural public transport system, i.e. about 15 people in the bed of a pickup. Each time a vehicle of any sort is heard pounding its way along the washboarded road into Mhalaunda every turns to look, peering out of windows and between the ears of maize to check the identity of the bwana driver (more often than not it’s a car for the hospital or an NGO). As for the transport, well it’s an hour and fifteen minute ride to the BOMA (British Overseeing Management Authority a term for the district capital, a holdover from colonial days). And to the my nearby trading center, Embangweni, it’s an hour and fifteen minute bicycle ride. I made this fateful journey just yesterday. Mayilo ulendo uheni. Yesterday made for a very difficult journey. I thought I understood the intricacies of the dusty footpaths that mark the road to town. The route most traveled is marked by a “left” at the mango tree at the fork, travel through the complex of Karungulu primary school, take the path through the Eucaplyptus grove, etc. This will be the last trip I make after my morning breakfast plan. I really need to know the EXACT route to my destination. I found my way to the primary school at Karungulu just fine, but that’s when I worried that I had taken a wrong turn at one too many of the mango trees. I decided to ask at the school, asking if this was the right way to Embangweni, kasi ulendo uwemi uko kuluta ku Embangweni? According to the gentlemen I stopped it was in fact the wrong way (turns out I was right but I was taking the main path not the shortcut path). He directed me towards the shortest way. I continued on in this way, on a dusty path utterly foreign to me. Parts of it I had to carry my bike over small streams, stepping heel-to-toe in baby steps across the timber logs stuck into the mud to make a foot bridge.
I continued on for another hour, not finding Embangweni , but assuming I was close on so many instances. According to my logic, I could follow the power lines and surely they would head towards town. I mean there isn’t much electricity here so where else could the lines be headed. Turns out they go to Zambia along the road I was on. I found that out after I stopped to ask again and I phone my counterpart, Mr. Makwakwa. He had me stand to the nearest random person and ask them exactly where I was so he could come find me. I then had a seat along the road and chatted with the workers at the ADMARC (where they buy and store maize). They were kind enough to buy me a soda and chat with me as I waited in the hot afternoon sun for Mr. Makwakwa. He finally found me and assisted me pedal-by-pedal to Embangweni. One sore ass, sunburned forearms, and an oddly misshapen backpack stuffed with produce later I was back in my nyumba.
October 14, 2010 Mhalaunda
It’s reaching the hot season here, chahanya. Yesterday it was just over 100˚F, probably around 105˚ in the sun. There was so little wind if felt just awful. My only source of solace was spreading out on the concrete floor, limbs flayed out, and sparsely clothed. And still, I couldn’t nap, it’s just too hot.
October 16, 2010 Mzuzu
Well I’m back in Mzuzu for another weekend, it’s becoming my second home. I arrived early evening from Luviri. I went to visit Haakon’s site with Jerrod Dolenz (another Kansan!) and Meg. We had a good time. We made some excellent food, played Carcasonne, and drank cheap Malawian brandy. In the grand scheme of things it seems so nerdy and simpleminded, but it was a much needed mental diversion. One thing I didn’t really consider was the social interactions with other volunteers. Of course there are other volunteers and you can be friends and see each other pretty much whenever you want. I just never thought about it before arriving. I guess I just thought I would be off in the bush by myself for two years or something of the like.
October 17, 2010 Mhalaunda
I really need to learn to relax a bit more. I have this tendency to tense up. And that coupled with this this overshadowing sense of guilt, a certain level of guilt that I feel on a daily basis. It’s this feeling that I’m not making as big of an effort or impact as I should be. At times, I take this guilt emotion to be a sort of motivation and I will get a lot done in a day to counteract the guilt shadow. But other times it can be so debilitating. I hate feeling guilty. I really enjoy lazy Sundays, laying around and watching movies and eating junk food (vegan-friendly junk food of course). But here, if I stay inside to watch movies on my computer I feel so guilty, like I should be out greeting and chatting with people. I suppose this is the feeling politicians feel when they take a day off from the campaign trail. It’s just so difficult to combat because the feeling I most enjoy is when I’m making a valuable contribution. That is why I’m here, in Africa, in Malawi after all. I know I should relax and go with the flow a little more, but I just can’t help it. Other volunteers even admonish against such feelings that it’s pointless, the community will accept you either way. This is my attempt to work out some of these more complex, mixed emotions. I want to feel like my being here is meaningful and I’m sure with time I will. It’s just right now my task is to integrate into the community. It’s such an abstract objective, you can take it to mean whatever, from playing bao (a game similar to mancala) with men at the grocery to chatting with women at the water spigot to taking a walk around the village. I see the other workers at the health center doing their everyday duties, prescribing medicine, delivering babies, giving HIV tests, and here I am wandering around aimlessly trying to “integrate” myself. I basically try to keep myself busy with menial household chores. My floors are spotless, I don’t think I’ve ever mopped so thoroughly in my life.
October 28, 2010 Mhalaunda
Yesterday was the Malawian nationwide National Education Day. All the schools represented by the Mhalaunda TDC, chimodzimodzi (means same as) an American school district, assembled just near the primary school in the village. They held dances, recited poems, each school was presented with gifts for the classrooms. Hundreds and hundreds of school children, packs of them in various uniforms of bright hued blues, greens, and purples, surround the small reed hut serving as the event’s stage. I was an invited and honored guest, so I sat in a plastic lawn chair between the Member of Parliament present and the PA system (my special task was then to hand the microphone to whoever happened to be speaking). Rabecca, my sister here, even recited a poem, in English even. I felt like a proud parent, taking the proverbial squat in front of the podium to snap the mid-action photo. The event lasted the entire length of the day. It was supposed to start at 9:00am but to the dynamic concept of time held by most Malawians the event didn’t begin until almost noon. The theme: Quality Education, a Hub for Social Economic Development (sic). Ambitious and admirable, the speeches and the performances seemed well suited to such a theme, but the effort given seemed to speak more of young students co-opted to read the printed words on the page, or I should say the hand-copied poems. People just reciting from memory the pretentious English with little inflection and the cursory Malawian custom of avoiding eye contact. One girl, so agitated by the size of the crowd, recited her poem with her eyes glued to the tree branch hanging directly over her head; she almost looked cross eyed.
November 1, 2010 Mzimba
Well I’m growing a little nervous that my nearest neighbors might think I’m a witch. I’m unknowingly building a case against myself. And, in a country like Malawi witchcraft, known colloquially as ufiti, is taken very seriously. People will storm houses if there’s been a death they think to be a result of ufiti. The newspaper runs stories on a daily basis about it. And now, I think I might be under suspicion from the community. Ok, so I’m exaggerating this a bit, but still. It stated with my sewing project, I had my pins and needles spread about including the use of my pin cushion. The pin cushion, known here as a small pillow, is seen as a tool of witchcraft. This was unbeknowst to me until my language instructor pointed out that I should conceal that before people see. The whole sticking and holding needles part, similar to the idea of a voodoo doll. Next, my bracelets, the ones I wear at all times, are also frequently worn by sing’angas. So strike two. Then, this past week I was caught on my roof, having one of my many meditations under the stars that I’ve come to cherish so much. They seemed quite perturbed that I would climb on my roof at night and gaze up at the stars. It’s common knowledge here that that is how witches catch witchcraft planes aka winnowing baskets. So, I was one step away from being on my roof to catch a winnowing basket. That one step, I just wasn’t naked. Being clothed saved them from accusing me of being a witch on the spot.
November 6, 2010 Kande Beach
TIA (this is Africa), you know you’re in Africa when you sit on the beach and two men walk by carrying between them a bound pig suspended from a tree limb. If they were on their way to a bonfire and it was some sort Malawian style luau it would be a bit more understandeable. But it’s 5:30am, a tad odd. Where could they possible be going at this hour?
November 8, 2010 Mzuzu
The birthday weekend was a success. Kande Beach was b.e.a.u.tiful. It felt like a return to civilization. Large umbrellas dotted the beach. Carlsberg Green were in limitless supply and always chilled, boys even delivered them to you on the beach. A morning breakfast plan to the sunrise each morning. Hammocks hanging from the boughs of the Acacia trees. The beach so beautifully clear, the water an ideal temperature. The sand was the perfect texture, small and willing to crumble between your toes; perfect for sand volleyball. Watching the sun rise over the lake, glittering on each wave as they rolled into the silent, abandoned beach, it was the sort of weekend to remind me that beauty is no whore.
The cafe even had veggie burgers, can you believe that? It was amazing.
The birthday ceremony was at midnight on the beach. Meg Watkins, another volunteer, her birthday is November 6 so we shared the weekend. The crew of us volunteers, strewn out on the beach, under the stars, and out comes the cake decorated with enough candles to light up the sand.
It was interesting interacting with the other resort goers. Several caravans of overlanders came through. They ride in a hybrid truck/bus thing that looks capable of taking a mortar shell. They sit high, about 8 to 10ft off the ground in the air-conditioned cab. They travel from port to port, resort to resort, unloading their identically packaged tents, eating food prepared on their own cooking utensils. It’s like an overland cruise where you can see the poverty and beauty of Sub-Saharan Africa from an air-conditioned cab. It was pretty outrageous.
November 11, 2010 Mhalaunda
Well I’m scared shitless. I found the dead bodies of 6 gigantic spiders this morning. They were littered across my floor, all over the bedroom and living room. I was too scared to even graze my big toe on the floor. I hid under my net until about 9am (considering I wake up around 5:30am this was a long time). I just wanted to make sure they were actually dead and not just playing dead.
Evidently they start to swarm right as the rains come. Great .... I seriously hate spiders. I had to call Dadjo (my darling father) to take me off my proverbial ledge. I hate spiders more than anything and those fuckers are big, aggressive, and they bite. They have huge pincers, I saw the wound from a girl who was bitten, to big prong holes, it looked like a baby vampire bite.
Well I solved my spider problem. I’ve taken to stuffing a bit of sheet under both my front and back door at dark. And, I haven’t seen one since. Oh my was I jumpy all day. The smallest little leaf brushing against my arm sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t relax for the life of me. Oh well, problem solved for now. Let’s hope they don’t unionize and agree to storm my door overnight.
November 15, 2010 Chizimba
I’m having a bit of a lull in my clinic duties today. I’ve recorded all the weights, distributed all the Vitamin A supplements to the kids, and checked the vaccination cards for all the mothers. Now, it’s time to sit and enjoy the nice breeze, wonderfully alipo (means around or about), while they prepare the communal meal for the clinic staff.
So I broke a mirror last week and I fear I might be having the stint of bad luck that allegedly follows such a mishap. It started with the largest pimple I’ve ever had on my cheek; one so large and bulbous it fucking hurt. If you thought things were “bigger” in Texas, you haven’t seen what a tropical, humid climate can do, for either vegetables or acne.
I’m my way back from a trip to the trading center, Embangweni, on my bicycle I managed to pop a tire. I sat at Karungulu Primary School for a solid hour while some guys fixed it for me. Now that is one thing I definitely appreciate about Malawians; they will always lend a helping hand. Three guys helped me fix it. I’m glad I had the forethought to attach my bicycle repair kit yesterday since I ended up needing it, prescient indeed.
I just returned from a day at the beach, on the beach of Lake Malawi. It certainly was a good day. My first visit to the lake at Nkhata Bay. The bay is beyond beautiful, it’s at the fringes of tourism, so it’s still unspoiled by many azungus. The beach I visited, Chikale Beach shows only a few signs of tourist interaction: a few bungalows and a bar. The beach itself is enclosed by a gorgeous yet humble cove with small, coarse-grained sand. A few rocky peninsulas jetted out into the cerulean waters, a mango tree sprouted from the jettison.
Nkhata Bay is a mere 45 minutes or about 50 km from Mzuzu, the northern urban hub. I visited the Bay with Dumi and another PCV, Russell who stays in Nkhotakota. We took a boat trip out in the bay, motoring around to get a different perspective of both the lake and the bay. As you depart from the land and gaze back you can see just how the lake was formed. The land angles down often with great slopes, diving into the lake. This is the African Rift Valley after all. So much of the lake’s perimeter is made of slate-like rock, long, wide, and quite thin, like it was broken right off of the earth’s mantle. When you slide into the water in any area apart from the beaches you have to perch and hop between these large rocks and then slide off one into the water. It makes me wonder just how deep the lake is, how deep it must dive between the two spreading plates.
October 5, 2010 Mhalaunda
It’s Monday and I finally returned to site after the long weekend. Transportation back to my site just isn’t possible on Sundays. The matola drivers take the day off and the closest I can get via other transportation would leave me with about 6 km to walk on my own. Unfortunately, I had to take one of these other means of transportation. One thing to be conscious of and flexible with are the many transportation difficulties you’ll occur when traveling in Malawi. Transportation is in no way reliable here. And today, well the day started off well enough. I completed all my errands in Mzuzu, no problem but I left for Mzimba a little late; it was after 12:30pm by the time I got out of the city. I took my first hitch from the National Bank in Mzuzu to the road block several kilometers outside of Mzuzu. Hitching is the preferred from of transportation among Peace Corps Volunteers. It’s generally more comfortable and the fastest mode of transport as they have fewer stops than minibuses. Anyhow, so the first hitch took but a few minutes to find. At the road block, there I sat in hopes that the police guards would ask any passing cars to take my lonely azungu ass. I sat for roughly 40 minutes at the post or so, watching cars pass where they seemed eager enough, casting me semi-anxious glances, and then off they would drive and the guards would just shrug at me. Finally, I took some initiative and wagged my hand, the Malawian equivalent of sticking out your thumb at a car just departing the road black. He pulled right over and I slipped in. We rode for a ways sporadically stopping to pick or drop other passengers. (Picking up hitchhikers is a fairly lucrative way to travel the highways here). We moved along quite well until we got a flat tire. The tire looking quite flaccid, all the air escaped some time ago, we were nearly driving on the rim. We sat at Chikangawa, which is a forest here, for an hour or so, waiting on someone at the post to go find a jack. Eventually someone found one, but not before I received a string of calls on my phone alerting me that the matola I take was leaving Mzimba. And me, well I was still 40 minutes away from Mzimba. Once the tire was replaced and we were on our way again did I start to grow nervous. What was I to do if I missed the matola? There were no other cars to take, or I could be dropped by another car the 6 km away and walk, or I could stay in Mzimba at a lodge that would be sure to overcharge me. My options seemed dim and I bit my lip, chewing anxiously. But, if there’s anything that Malawi, the Peace Corps, or the wonderful Mary Klayder has taught me it’s that it will always be fine. In this I found some comfort.
I arrived in Mzimba to find the matola gone, but with instructions from Mama Chavula to take Lizeni’s matola, one that heads to Embangweni. I found home, no problem. Malawians are quite helpful, you emerge from the bus depot and you’re immediately greeted with, “Hello Madame! Where are you going?” I relate that I’m looking for Lizeni’s matola. The four that greeted me direct me to his vehicle and carry all my bags (this is free of charge, tipping is unheard of here). I hopped into the flatbed mini-semi truck only to wait for two hours for no other reason then to see if they could fill the car. The truck tries to attract more passengers by honking, revving the engine, and circling the depot, it’s like the mating call of an oversized and noxious fumed bird. I grew more irritable with each rev and honk. Once we were on our way, in the early darkness that befalls evening here, around 6pm. Lizeni drove with a superb mastery of the washboarded dirt roads. This was my only source of comfort as he drives with a Carlsberg Special in one hand and an Ascot cigarette in the other. We continued in this manner until we reached Chimutu, there Gabriel met me around 7:30pm. I was so glad to see him, I was under the impression that I would have to walk from there. He was there with another bicycle taxi, to carry both me and my large pack. And that’s how I traveled the final 6km, on the back of a bike taxi, gripping my market purchases and gazing mouth agape at the superb brilliance of the Malawi mdima, the awe-inspiring night sky.
October 7, 2010 Mhalaunda
This week has been tremendous, one which makes me thankful for choosing to do Peace Corps and that I’ve been so fortunate to come to Malawi. I think I’ve finally found that groove I’ve searching for in earnest. I’d say the largest, most crucial element to my happiness has been having tasks, actual work to do. I taught my first two classes of Life Skills this week to both From 1 and Form 3 (the freshmen and junior year equivalents). I teach both forms two periods a week, so 4 classes. The first lesson is on self-awareness and self-esteem. The kids, though a bit shy, seem so eager to learn. Or, perhaps the novelty of being taught by an azungu is still dazzling them. Either way, the students were so respectful, I was so pleased. They’re so well behaved and the general morale of the class is quite high. Any freshmen equivalent at Topeka High would just fail in comparison. The lessons went so well; I walked out with a little jaunt in my step.
I also met with the People Living with HIV/AIDS group. They’re such an organized and lively bunch, not to sound dreadful, but this was pleasantly surprising. They have support group meetings once a week. They run several IGA activities including sewing and knitting clothes for children. I sat in on a lesson for the knitting machine (World Vision an NGO from the States donated the sewing and knitting machines). They also run a garden to supply produce for the additional nutritional needs for their members.
Cooking is going quite well. I experimented with gyoza (potstickers) this week. I made the gyoza from cabbage, onions, tomatoes, garlic and ginger. I boiled them, you know cut back on the fried foods since I get enough of that here with the fried chips. They turned out quite delicious, kunowa chomene. I even made an accompanying dipping sauce, a sort of spicy ginger sauce. And for dessert, no bake cookies. I almost ate the whole batch, which makes me feel a tad guilty. But hey, who’s watching my weight here? Oh just me, because my neighbors keep telling me that I’ll look good fat, and fat is in here for women. The fatter the better. In case you’re wondering I’ve put on 12 pounds. And no, I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a good thing that full length mirrors are nowhere to be found here.
October 12, 2010 Mhalaunda
I’m not sure just how descript I’ve been to the utter remoteness of my site. Just three cars (trucks really) pass through here on a daily basis. All three are part of the matola system, the rural public transport system, i.e. about 15 people in the bed of a pickup. Each time a vehicle of any sort is heard pounding its way along the washboarded road into Mhalaunda every turns to look, peering out of windows and between the ears of maize to check the identity of the bwana driver (more often than not it’s a car for the hospital or an NGO). As for the transport, well it’s an hour and fifteen minute ride to the BOMA (British Overseeing Management Authority a term for the district capital, a holdover from colonial days). And to the my nearby trading center, Embangweni, it’s an hour and fifteen minute bicycle ride. I made this fateful journey just yesterday. Mayilo ulendo uheni. Yesterday made for a very difficult journey. I thought I understood the intricacies of the dusty footpaths that mark the road to town. The route most traveled is marked by a “left” at the mango tree at the fork, travel through the complex of Karungulu primary school, take the path through the Eucaplyptus grove, etc. This will be the last trip I make after my morning breakfast plan. I really need to know the EXACT route to my destination. I found my way to the primary school at Karungulu just fine, but that’s when I worried that I had taken a wrong turn at one too many of the mango trees. I decided to ask at the school, asking if this was the right way to Embangweni, kasi ulendo uwemi uko kuluta ku Embangweni? According to the gentlemen I stopped it was in fact the wrong way (turns out I was right but I was taking the main path not the shortcut path). He directed me towards the shortest way. I continued on in this way, on a dusty path utterly foreign to me. Parts of it I had to carry my bike over small streams, stepping heel-to-toe in baby steps across the timber logs stuck into the mud to make a foot bridge.
I continued on for another hour, not finding Embangweni , but assuming I was close on so many instances. According to my logic, I could follow the power lines and surely they would head towards town. I mean there isn’t much electricity here so where else could the lines be headed. Turns out they go to Zambia along the road I was on. I found that out after I stopped to ask again and I phone my counterpart, Mr. Makwakwa. He had me stand to the nearest random person and ask them exactly where I was so he could come find me. I then had a seat along the road and chatted with the workers at the ADMARC (where they buy and store maize). They were kind enough to buy me a soda and chat with me as I waited in the hot afternoon sun for Mr. Makwakwa. He finally found me and assisted me pedal-by-pedal to Embangweni. One sore ass, sunburned forearms, and an oddly misshapen backpack stuffed with produce later I was back in my nyumba.
October 14, 2010 Mhalaunda
It’s reaching the hot season here, chahanya. Yesterday it was just over 100˚F, probably around 105˚ in the sun. There was so little wind if felt just awful. My only source of solace was spreading out on the concrete floor, limbs flayed out, and sparsely clothed. And still, I couldn’t nap, it’s just too hot.
October 16, 2010 Mzuzu
Well I’m back in Mzuzu for another weekend, it’s becoming my second home. I arrived early evening from Luviri. I went to visit Haakon’s site with Jerrod Dolenz (another Kansan!) and Meg. We had a good time. We made some excellent food, played Carcasonne, and drank cheap Malawian brandy. In the grand scheme of things it seems so nerdy and simpleminded, but it was a much needed mental diversion. One thing I didn’t really consider was the social interactions with other volunteers. Of course there are other volunteers and you can be friends and see each other pretty much whenever you want. I just never thought about it before arriving. I guess I just thought I would be off in the bush by myself for two years or something of the like.
October 17, 2010 Mhalaunda
I really need to learn to relax a bit more. I have this tendency to tense up. And that coupled with this this overshadowing sense of guilt, a certain level of guilt that I feel on a daily basis. It’s this feeling that I’m not making as big of an effort or impact as I should be. At times, I take this guilt emotion to be a sort of motivation and I will get a lot done in a day to counteract the guilt shadow. But other times it can be so debilitating. I hate feeling guilty. I really enjoy lazy Sundays, laying around and watching movies and eating junk food (vegan-friendly junk food of course). But here, if I stay inside to watch movies on my computer I feel so guilty, like I should be out greeting and chatting with people. I suppose this is the feeling politicians feel when they take a day off from the campaign trail. It’s just so difficult to combat because the feeling I most enjoy is when I’m making a valuable contribution. That is why I’m here, in Africa, in Malawi after all. I know I should relax and go with the flow a little more, but I just can’t help it. Other volunteers even admonish against such feelings that it’s pointless, the community will accept you either way. This is my attempt to work out some of these more complex, mixed emotions. I want to feel like my being here is meaningful and I’m sure with time I will. It’s just right now my task is to integrate into the community. It’s such an abstract objective, you can take it to mean whatever, from playing bao (a game similar to mancala) with men at the grocery to chatting with women at the water spigot to taking a walk around the village. I see the other workers at the health center doing their everyday duties, prescribing medicine, delivering babies, giving HIV tests, and here I am wandering around aimlessly trying to “integrate” myself. I basically try to keep myself busy with menial household chores. My floors are spotless, I don’t think I’ve ever mopped so thoroughly in my life.
October 28, 2010 Mhalaunda
Yesterday was the Malawian nationwide National Education Day. All the schools represented by the Mhalaunda TDC, chimodzimodzi (means same as) an American school district, assembled just near the primary school in the village. They held dances, recited poems, each school was presented with gifts for the classrooms. Hundreds and hundreds of school children, packs of them in various uniforms of bright hued blues, greens, and purples, surround the small reed hut serving as the event’s stage. I was an invited and honored guest, so I sat in a plastic lawn chair between the Member of Parliament present and the PA system (my special task was then to hand the microphone to whoever happened to be speaking). Rabecca, my sister here, even recited a poem, in English even. I felt like a proud parent, taking the proverbial squat in front of the podium to snap the mid-action photo. The event lasted the entire length of the day. It was supposed to start at 9:00am but to the dynamic concept of time held by most Malawians the event didn’t begin until almost noon. The theme: Quality Education, a Hub for Social Economic Development (sic). Ambitious and admirable, the speeches and the performances seemed well suited to such a theme, but the effort given seemed to speak more of young students co-opted to read the printed words on the page, or I should say the hand-copied poems. People just reciting from memory the pretentious English with little inflection and the cursory Malawian custom of avoiding eye contact. One girl, so agitated by the size of the crowd, recited her poem with her eyes glued to the tree branch hanging directly over her head; she almost looked cross eyed.
November 1, 2010 Mzimba
Well I’m growing a little nervous that my nearest neighbors might think I’m a witch. I’m unknowingly building a case against myself. And, in a country like Malawi witchcraft, known colloquially as ufiti, is taken very seriously. People will storm houses if there’s been a death they think to be a result of ufiti. The newspaper runs stories on a daily basis about it. And now, I think I might be under suspicion from the community. Ok, so I’m exaggerating this a bit, but still. It stated with my sewing project, I had my pins and needles spread about including the use of my pin cushion. The pin cushion, known here as a small pillow, is seen as a tool of witchcraft. This was unbeknowst to me until my language instructor pointed out that I should conceal that before people see. The whole sticking and holding needles part, similar to the idea of a voodoo doll. Next, my bracelets, the ones I wear at all times, are also frequently worn by sing’angas. So strike two. Then, this past week I was caught on my roof, having one of my many meditations under the stars that I’ve come to cherish so much. They seemed quite perturbed that I would climb on my roof at night and gaze up at the stars. It’s common knowledge here that that is how witches catch witchcraft planes aka winnowing baskets. So, I was one step away from being on my roof to catch a winnowing basket. That one step, I just wasn’t naked. Being clothed saved them from accusing me of being a witch on the spot.
November 6, 2010 Kande Beach
TIA (this is Africa), you know you’re in Africa when you sit on the beach and two men walk by carrying between them a bound pig suspended from a tree limb. If they were on their way to a bonfire and it was some sort Malawian style luau it would be a bit more understandeable. But it’s 5:30am, a tad odd. Where could they possible be going at this hour?
November 8, 2010 Mzuzu
The birthday weekend was a success. Kande Beach was b.e.a.u.tiful. It felt like a return to civilization. Large umbrellas dotted the beach. Carlsberg Green were in limitless supply and always chilled, boys even delivered them to you on the beach. A morning breakfast plan to the sunrise each morning. Hammocks hanging from the boughs of the Acacia trees. The beach so beautifully clear, the water an ideal temperature. The sand was the perfect texture, small and willing to crumble between your toes; perfect for sand volleyball. Watching the sun rise over the lake, glittering on each wave as they rolled into the silent, abandoned beach, it was the sort of weekend to remind me that beauty is no whore.
The cafe even had veggie burgers, can you believe that? It was amazing.
The birthday ceremony was at midnight on the beach. Meg Watkins, another volunteer, her birthday is November 6 so we shared the weekend. The crew of us volunteers, strewn out on the beach, under the stars, and out comes the cake decorated with enough candles to light up the sand.
It was interesting interacting with the other resort goers. Several caravans of overlanders came through. They ride in a hybrid truck/bus thing that looks capable of taking a mortar shell. They sit high, about 8 to 10ft off the ground in the air-conditioned cab. They travel from port to port, resort to resort, unloading their identically packaged tents, eating food prepared on their own cooking utensils. It’s like an overland cruise where you can see the poverty and beauty of Sub-Saharan Africa from an air-conditioned cab. It was pretty outrageous.
November 11, 2010 Mhalaunda
Well I’m scared shitless. I found the dead bodies of 6 gigantic spiders this morning. They were littered across my floor, all over the bedroom and living room. I was too scared to even graze my big toe on the floor. I hid under my net until about 9am (considering I wake up around 5:30am this was a long time). I just wanted to make sure they were actually dead and not just playing dead.
Evidently they start to swarm right as the rains come. Great .... I seriously hate spiders. I had to call Dadjo (my darling father) to take me off my proverbial ledge. I hate spiders more than anything and those fuckers are big, aggressive, and they bite. They have huge pincers, I saw the wound from a girl who was bitten, to big prong holes, it looked like a baby vampire bite.
Well I solved my spider problem. I’ve taken to stuffing a bit of sheet under both my front and back door at dark. And, I haven’t seen one since. Oh my was I jumpy all day. The smallest little leaf brushing against my arm sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t relax for the life of me. Oh well, problem solved for now. Let’s hope they don’t unionize and agree to storm my door overnight.
November 15, 2010 Chizimba
I’m having a bit of a lull in my clinic duties today. I’ve recorded all the weights, distributed all the Vitamin A supplements to the kids, and checked the vaccination cards for all the mothers. Now, it’s time to sit and enjoy the nice breeze, wonderfully alipo (means around or about), while they prepare the communal meal for the clinic staff.
So I broke a mirror last week and I fear I might be having the stint of bad luck that allegedly follows such a mishap. It started with the largest pimple I’ve ever had on my cheek; one so large and bulbous it fucking hurt. If you thought things were “bigger” in Texas, you haven’t seen what a tropical, humid climate can do, for either vegetables or acne.
I’m my way back from a trip to the trading center, Embangweni, on my bicycle I managed to pop a tire. I sat at Karungulu Primary School for a solid hour while some guys fixed it for me. Now that is one thing I definitely appreciate about Malawians; they will always lend a helping hand. Three guys helped me fix it. I’m glad I had the forethought to attach my bicycle repair kit yesterday since I ended up needing it, prescient indeed.
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